Fearless in the Dark
by JDPhoenix
Summary: A crippled Malfoy. Barely any better than a muggle - worse! He had magic, certainly, but what was he to do with it when he couldn't even see where his wand was pointing?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way associated with, Harry Potter. I'm just taking the characters out for a spin.

AN: This takes place in year 6. Basically, I'm ignoring everything that happened in HBP. Also, this story is finished and will be posted in three parts, all of which will be up by May, barring some unforeseen disaster. The title comes from the poem "Prayer for a Very New Angel." The poem has nothing at all to do with this story, the line just worked well.

**Fearless in the Dark**

(1/3)**  
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The cries of the crowd, wind screaming in his ears, his own heart pounding furiously, it all faded into one great roar that disappeared so suddenly that Draco Malfoy jumped in shock.

"Oh, there you are." He recognized Madam Pomfrey's voice, heavy with relief. A hand soft with age touched his brow, pushing away his hair and feeling carefully along his forehead. The pads of her fingers pressed gently and he winced only once.

"You took quite a tumble," she said, pulling back finally.

He remembered. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. First quidditch match of the year. He'd been determined to get the snitch. He and Potter saw it at the same time, both dove for the stands where it was hovering. It dropped and jumped twice but they both followed. When it flew straight for the ground, holding close to the wall of the stands neither boy even paused. Draco and Potter had been side by side, nearly touching as they dove.

Draco still felt that triumph from when Potter had pulled up, unable to go any further without slamming headfirst into the ground. In that moment any pain or injury was worth it because he'd held on longer, finally bested the golden boy. When his fingers curled around the snitch, catching sand and dirt from the pitch as well, he was ecstatic. He'd already begun pulling up but felt the tail of his broom drag on the ground just as the corner of the wall slammed into him.

"How are you feeling?" Pomfrey asked. "Is there any pain?"

He took stock of himself slowly, moving fingers and toes in careful experimentation. He could feel the blanket tugging around his chest when his toes curled and his fingernails dug into his side so he hadn't gotten himself paralyzed. There was a dull ache in his head but that was to be expected. He reported it though, not wanting to leave anything to chance. Pomfrey agreed with his assessment and said she would leave him alone to rest for a while.

"How long have I been out?" he asked before she could walk away. There was some other question he wanted to ask but it stayed very securely in the deep corner of his mind, not allowed to form.

"Nearly a day," she said kindly. "Your bones needed the time to heal though so you should be thankful you didn't wake up before now."

_Nearly a day_. Draco remembered his last moments of consciousness, how the sand of the pitch had been blindingly white in the afternoon sun and every crack and stain on the side of the stands stood out as he went barreling into them. Then he remembered every time he'd been in the infirmary, how the light had streamed in through the tall windows, soothing and comforting.

"Why is it dark?" he asked and was ashamed at how small and scared his voice sounded.

"What?" Pomfrey asked, confusion and just a bit of wariness in her tone.

"It's dark," he said, fighting to keep the terror from showing, fisting his hands in the blanket lest his whole body begin to shake. "I can't see a thing."

* * *

><p>After that it was all tests and potions and whispered conversations between Pomfrey and Snape and Dumbledore. He couldn't make out what they were saying from his bed but he could imagine well enough. There was nothing to be done, all possible cures had failed and any other options would be reckless.<p>

He was blind. _Blind._ A crippled Malfoy. Barely any better than a muggle - worse! He had magic, certainly, but what was he to do with it when he couldn't even see where his wand was pointing?

He kept it in his hand at all times now. Ran his fingers over the smooth hawthorn, matching the feel of it to his memory of the sight of it. The wholeness that filled him when its magic met his was almost enough to make him forget. But only almost.

He knew every inch of his infirmary bed by now, knew the subtle indent made by generations of Hogwarts students spending countless nights laid up here, knew how many springs wide and long it was. What he didn't know was the sheets' exact shade of white or whether there was a stain somewhere. Perhaps four brown drops five inches from the edge were leftover from someone's bloody nose a decade ago. He didn't know and spent hours in the darkness wondering.

"Draco." The word came just before a hand rested on his shoulder. He could tell by the way the pressure shifted that Snape was sitting. Once he was settled Draco turned his head the tiniest bit in his direction. Draco kept his eyes closed. It was a small point of pride: don't let them see that you can't see them, it's better if it seems you _won't_.

Snape had been gentle with him ever since it happened. It was scarier than being blind, hearing the man's voice so soft and caring.

"You don't have to tell me," Draco said. "She's not coming."

His father being in Azkaban, Narcissa had been informed of her son's _condition_. She loved him, cared for him deeply, but he would never expect her to come now, not given who was watching.

"It would be a sign of weakness," Snape whispered. "You understand that. The Dark Lord would use you against her."

It was the same reason she had barely written all year, the same reason she had been cold and distant that summer. Their lives were very much Voldemort's and it wouldn't do to give him anymore control than he'd already taken. It wasn't that the Malfoys were traitorous, they were simply survivors.

"I understand," Draco said, purposefully not matching Snape's quiet tone.

"She sends her love."

Draco did not respond. The silence that followed fell upon them like a blanket. It was uncomfortable and it chafed but it was something to occupy a mind that couldn't seem to quiet these days, so Draco let it go on much longer than he should have. Snape, he imagined, understood since he too kept quiet.

"What will happen to me?" Draco asked finally. He'd been in the infirmary for six days now, longer than anyone he remembered since that Chamber of Secrets madness in his second year.

"New quarters have been prepared for you on the ground floor."

Draco chuckled mirthlessly. "It wouldn't do for me to fall out a window to my death."

"No, it would not," Snape said dryly. "You will be taken there tonight. Madam Pomfrey wished to release you this afternoon but I convinced her to wait until after dinner."

After curfew, he meant. After everyone would be in their beds and no one would see Draco Malfoy being led about by the hand like an idiot child.

"What about classes?" Draco asked. He couldn't read his books, couldn't take notes, couldn't even get to class.

"One step at a time," Snape said, at once snide and serene, like he'd asked the same question and Dumbledore had answered in typical crazy old coot fashion.

* * *

><p>Two steps from the door to the chest resting at the foot of his bed. Turn left. Two and a half steps to the desk, two steps long with a chair sticking out half a hand-length. To the left was his dresser and if he walked before it he'd hit wall after only one and a half steps. Two feet of nothing lined the wall there, between the dresser and the fireplace beside the door. If he turned left again at the wall, walked carefully over the two and a half steps of tile before the fireplace, he'd hit the wall between the door and his chest. Here was a second door, leading to the completely different adventure that was his private bath.<p>

To the right of the desk was a bookcase, just as wide as the dresser. There was only one foot of wall between it and the window seat. It was curved outward and went up taller than he could reach standing upon the cushions, though he did feel the beginnings of a half-domed top. It was a supreme act of universal spite that he finally had a window and couldn't enjoy it.

The only remaining piece of furniture was a small bedside table between the window and his bed. Were circumstances different he would keep a book there for late night reading. As it was he kept only his wand there, easily within reach when he woke up.

He spent two painfully quiet days in the room. A house-elf named Peech brought him his meals and started up the fire to ward off the chilly nights. She offered to read to him and from the direction of her voice he imagined she was perusing the shelves where his books had been carefully placed prior to his arrival. He refused.

On the third day, when the clock on his mantle struck one o'clock, someone knocked on the door. He wanted more than anything to tell them to go away, leave him to wallow in peace, but he also wanted something to occupy him and so said, "Enter."

The door opened and closed. He could hear someone breathing but since he did not hear anyone moving he assumed they were remaining where they were.

"You know," he drawled, "it's very rude not to announce yourself to a blind man."

"Malfoy."

Granger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he nearly snarled.

She walked across the room and he heard her drop several books on the desk. "I'm here to tutor you."

Oh, this was too rich. "No."

"This is a school, Malfoy. You have to study." It grated that her patronizing tone was softened by pity.

"Not with you, I don't."

"And how do you plan on passing your classes otherwise?"

"I'm not even going to my classes! Are you going to give me my tests? Grade my papers? You jumped at the chance to do this, didn't you? You get a head start on your dream job annoying future generations of Hogwarts students."

There were several moments of silence. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I was trying to work up some tears to make you feel better since you're obviously attempting to share your own pain, but that was probably the least effective insult you've tried since the second time you called me a mudblood."

She moved towards the door, her footsteps sharp and purposeful.

"I have my own homework to do. You have the next two hours to adjust yourself to the idea of me helping you. That's when I get out of Potions and I'll be back here to get started."

"You will not-" he began, turning towards her voice.

"And I didn't 'jump at the chance,'" she snapped. "Snape asked me to do this. He figured it'd be easier if you already hated whoever did it, that way no love would be lost on either end. Two hours." The click of the door opening, shutting, and she was gone.

* * *

><p>She returned promptly two hours later and they spent the next three hours working tensely. He would not let her review, insisting that he was more than capable of moving on despite the week and a half since his last lessons. And so they plowed ahead. She would read him passages from their textbooks and he would snap at her that he'd already read those and if she wasn't there to teach him anything new then she might as well leave. When they moved onto the next subject she would inevitably try to skip ahead to the practical side of things, only to be told that he hadn't read the chapter and how dare she assume such things.<p>

He could feel her aggravation from across the room and it was delicious. But even better, not that he would ever admit it, was learning again, talking again. Even a mudblood was company.

She didn't leave until Peech popped in to light the fire.

"It's been - interesting, Malfoy," she said and he heard the shuffle of books and papers being shoved into her bag.

"Will you be back tomorrow?" he asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

"Of course," she said. "I'm not about to start my teaching career with a failure." He could hear her wry smile and smirked, letting his head fall back against his headboard. "Three o'clock again?"

He nodded, listened to the crackle of the fire starting and the soft shuffle of her footsteps across the carpet. The door opened, didn't close.

"By the way," she said, "congratulations. Even Ron had to admit that was the most fantastic dive he'd ever seen."

It came back to him. The game. The thrill of knowing he'd beaten Potter, the shock of the wall directly before him…

"Did we win?" he asked quietly.

"No one's told you?" she asked, shocked. The door creaked slightly as if she were leaning on it. "I don't know how true this is but rumor has it that you held onto the snitch so tight that Madam Pomfrey had to break two of your fingers to get it free once you got to the infirmary. You won, Malfoy."

He nodded, his lips curving into a smile. It didn't make it worth it, but it hurt a little less.

* * *

><p>It took a month, which Draco thought was rather good, considering. Hermione told him afterward that no one in the Weasley twins' pool - how they ran it from outside Hogwarts, Draco did not know or bother to ask - thought he would make it so long.<p>

They'd fallen into a routine, him and Granger. They had an unspoken agreement that they were only allowed one dig for every half-hour they spent in each other's company. Sometimes this meant they spent the first few minutes of their three hour study session insulting each other and sometimes it meant they saved things up for when they were bored.

He didn't have to write papers, though occasionally Granger would bring up some muggle invention that would allow him to. Instead he would give an oral report to professors, explaining his thought process and answering any questions they put to him. These reports were almost always given in his own rooms or a classroom somewhere on the ground floor.

He didn't often leave his room, not seeing any point even when Granger asked him to accompany her to the library so that she wouldn't have to lug books up and down four floors just for him. She didn't press the subject though and he figured she'd realized he was too proud to allow others to see him like this.

Then came the day when she couldn't hold it in any longer - and consequently, neither could he.

"You can't stay cooped up in here forever," she said, shutting what he presumed was her Potions text. She was sitting in the window seat, enjoying what she'd grudgingly assured him was a magnificent view of the south lawn. He had moved from his usual seat on the bed and had his feet propped up on the desk, the chair tilted beneath him at a precarious angle. He twirled his wand idly in his fingers, wishing for a reason to use it.

"What exactly am I missing?" he asked. "The Halloween decorations going up? Has McGonagall dyed her hair some horrid color? Are the merpeople showing off-"

"Stop it!" she snapped. "That's not what I mean and you know it! You're missing _life_. Who was the last person you spoke to who wasn't me or Peech or one of the professors? Do you even let your friends come see you?"

He didn't have to let them because they didn't. Slytherins didn't want to be visited and pitied when they were hurt, they wanted to endure the pain and shame in privacy so that they might steel themselves to return as if nothing had happened. But there would be no return for Draco Malfoy. He would live the rest of his life like this and he'd be damned before he endured pity friendships.

The front legs of the chair hit the floor with a bang. "You're here to teach me, not judge me," he said coldly. "If you're not going to do that, you can leave."

"No," she said and he could tell she'd risen from the way her voice fell upon him. He did the same, turning his head towards the chill that always flowed through the window.

"This is my room, Granger. You have no right to-"

"I don't care! You can't just sit in here feeling sorry for yourself! There are plenty of blind people in the world who live full lives!"

"Muggle people," he snarled, which was a lie. He knew there were blind wizards - most were like Moody with his glass eye that was even better than the original - but some, who'd been hit by curses or, like him, endured damage to the brain that not even magic could understand, had to live with their condition.

"You're a coward," she said viciously.

He laughed. "I'm a Slytherin," he said, "not some idiotic Gryffindor! What you people call cowardice we call sneakiness."

"This isn't sneaky! This is cowardice, plain and simple. You're afraid of what you'll find on the other side of that door. You're afraid to live. You're afraid to _try_. And that's just pathetic, Malfoy. Even a Slytherin has the guts to go out and _do_ something."

Tingling warmth shot past Draco's right leg and he felt the floor beneath his feet shudder. He'd fired a spell. Not a strong one, not a good one, not any one he knew consciously, but it was enough to make Granger gasp.

"_Get out_," he said quietly. Every muscle in his body was tense, even his eyelids were straining he was holding them shut so tight.

"Malfoy," she said cautiously, caringly. That was the last straw.

"**Get out!**" he thundered and brought his wand up in a wide arch.

She screamed, not long, not in fear, but in shock that was less satisfying than he hoped. She scampered past him towards the door while he heard glass shatter and wood split. He whirled, following the sound of her steps and lashing out again. The door slammed and cracked under his spell at the same moment.

Draco didn't stop now that he was alone. He spun, slashing up, down, left, right. He didn't care, he just wanted to hurt something, anything. There was a fluttering sound and he realized some of his books had fallen apart and the pages were floating on the waves of magic he was letting out. At first he didn't have any real aim in his attacks but then he started chasing the noise, it was loud and low and hurt him to hear. It kept moving, just out of his reach and it was only when he slammed his fists down on his splintered desktop that he realized it was him, sounding like some wounded animal.

* * *

><p><em>reviews=love<em>


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I had considered posting this today but dropped that idea when I was unexpectedly called into work this morning. Then tonight I got the nicest ask ever from herlovelypatronus on tumblr and thought updating would be a perfect thank you.

**Fearless in the Dark**

(2/3)**  
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A hand on his shoulder woke him up. He figured it was Peech, come to bring him his breakfast. What must she think, finding him sitting, propped up against his gutted, slightly burnt bed? Not even a house-elf deserved that much of a shock so early in the morning.

"Good thing you're here," he muttered, wincing more at the stiffness of dried water tracks on his cheeks than how raw his throat felt. "Broke my clock. I'd never know the time if you weren't always so prompt."

"Malfoy."

Granger!

He jerked away, scrambled for a moment before her hands on his arms and his own inability to see a damned thing stopped him.

"I'm sorry," she said once he'd stilled. "I really am. I was just trying to make you angry enough to prove me wrong. … That's a lie. I was just angry with you and then later figured out a good excuse. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." Her voice was watery and her hands were fisted tight in the fabric of his robes.

"Did I finally make you cry, Granger?" he asked, smiling.

"Shut up!" she snapped, tears (if there'd been any) gone instantly. "Do you have any idea how much damage you've done? This room is a disaster zone!"

"At least I can still make a mess properly," he muttered.

She grabbed his elbow and yanked him to his feet. "You are going to help me clean this place up!"

"The house-elves-"

"You made this mess! You are going to clean it!"

He rolled his eyes, going so far as to open them so she could see the action. She did, if her annoyed scoff was any indication.

"We'll start with the bed," she said and they turned. He was thankful she didn't tell him to or touch him so he'd know which way to face. He was blind, not stupid, after all. She did a quick spell to repair the fire damage and said, "A simple reparo should do the rest."

"Reparo works because you visualize how the thing is supposed to look and then you make it look like that again. I have never seen this bed."

"But you sleep in it," she pointed out. "You sit in it, you touch it and feel it. Don't visualize, remember how it _feels_."

"This is never gonna work," he muttered but said, "Reparo," all the same. Granger's pleased cry of joy covered up his gasp.

"See?" she said and he heard the mattress creak under her weight. "Good as new. I told you, you could- what?" She'd sprung up again and was standing much too close but he didn't bother being angry. Instead he lifted his wand before him and said a strangled, "Lumos."

"Malfoy, what are you doing?"

His face split into a wide grin. "I can see it," he said. A moment ago there had been nothing but darkness before his eyes, but now a bright light was before him, fading to a dull grey at the edges of what had once been his field of vision.

"See what?" she asked, her voice a quiet mix of surprise, fear, and awe.

"My magic. I can see my own magic."

* * *

><p>Thus began weeks of study and testing. It seemed like whenever Granger wasn't in class she was in his room and Peech even began bringing two plates at every meal. It was almost enough to make Draco miss the long, lingering days when there was no one to bother him. But only almost.<p>

Their routine shifted to accommodate their new shared obsession. Draco's lessons and Granger's own homework were done as quickly as possible. All their insults were saved for moments when Granger insisted he do a spell twelve times or when Draco purposefully aimed a hex at the spot he'd just heard Crookshanks moving about. The cat had begun following Granger to his room a week after Draco realized he could see his magic and could not be kept out, no matter how hard either of them tried.

"What are you even trying to do?" Draco asked, if only to stop her from asking him to tell her what the body-bind curse looked like once again. It was different, they'd realized, when a spell had something to affect, but she still insisted on knowing what he saw under all circumstances.

"I'm collecting data," she said from the head of his bed. She was curled up there, taking notes. He sat further down the bed, legs splayed over the side, arms resting on his knees as he lazily performed magic.

"But what good is it?" he asked. "What are you going to do with it?"

He felt the mattress shift when she shrugged. "It depends on what the data points to."

He flopped back on the bed, his scalp scraping against the wall. "I'm bored of being your experiment."

Crookshanks jumped onto his belly and he tensed, arms instinctively moving to grab the cat and pull him to his chest. Granger moved at the same moment, leaning forward and resting so close to him that he could feel her breath when she spoke.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

He instantly regretted it.

"Come outside with me."

"No."

"It's snowing! You have to admit, snow is something you can enjoy without seeing it."

"I enjoy throwing snowballs," he said.

"Well, you'll have to enjoy something else," she said, rolling off the bed. A moment later something heavy fell over him and Crookshanks. He recognized the feel of his favorite winter coat.

He pulled it away from his face and said, "I'm not exactly the snow angel kind of person."

"I'll bring _Hogwarts, A History_," she conceded. "At the very least we can study somewhere _new_."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later - they'd lost a fair bit of time while Granger ran up to Gryffindor Tower for her own coat - the two were heading to the front entrance. She didn't offer any help save for a light hand at his elbow and a quiet "left" or "right" when they had to turn.<p>

"No, tell me," he said. "How many people are staring?" He had the collar of his coat up and a scarf Granger assured him was Slytherin green wrapped high around his neck. His knit cap was pulled low, covering his hair. It wasn't much of a disguise and he doubted it would fool anyone, but it was enough.

"No one is staring," she assured him. "Everyone is either snuggled up in their common rooms or outside already."

"So the staring starts when we get to the front steps. Fantastic."

"It will be fine!" she insisted, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. "We're there," she said and cold wind slammed into him as one of the great doors creaked open.

He stepped into the wind until all the warmth of the hall faded away, until he could hear the air moving freely for miles in every direction except behind. Granger's hand caught his elbow just as he stopped.

"The stairs," she said, sounding distracted as if she were working out how he would get down them safely. "The first one is-"

"Is there ice on them?"

"No, Hagrid always makes sure there are charms in place to-"

"Good." Draco pulled out is wand and pointed it down and slightly forward. "Caligus," he said and watched as pale blue-grey light flowed into being. It spread and settled before him like the fog it was. He hadn't put much force into it, just enough so that a thin, barely-there mist would cover the steps. Where the light stopped, he stepped and made it not-quite-easily down the steps.

"That was amazing!" Granger said, clapping once with glee as she followed behind him.

"It was a first year spell," he muttered, marching forward into the snow and counting on luck and Hogwarts' always well-kept grounds to keep him from tripping over anything.

"But you thought to use it in a completely new way! It was really good, Malfoy."

She was far too happy and he too close to sharing the feeling with her.

"Which way?" he asked harshly.

He felt her pause, surprised by his tone. "There's, um, there's a bench at two o'clock, about ten meters away." She had to rush to keep up but he was too annoyed with life to give it the satisfaction of seeing him fall.

"Here," Granger said and Draco slowed just in time for the leg of his pants to touch the bench. He reached down to brush away snow, then sat heavily.

When Granger was settled beside him he said, "Well, this is much more fun than my room."

"Hush," she said calmly.

The cold settled over them. Wind blew past, only serving to remind Draco that he'd never fly again. The silence between them stretched for minutes and then Draco heard it. People. Students were running about and laughing and playing and yelling and having fights. Draco spent the next hour just listening to them. Occasionally he heard Granger turning a page beside him, seemingly content to read while he enjoyed the sounds of snowball fights and toboggan rides down the hill towards Hagrid's.

"Hermione! Hey, Hermione!"

Granger tensed beside him, flipping the book shut and shifting awkwardly on the seat as if she wasn't sure what to do. Draco closed his eyes firmly as two sets of heavy footfalls came towards them, slowing as they neared until, "Hermione? Is that…?"

"Yes," Draco said, smirking, "the elusive Draco Malfoy has emerged from his cave. Banner day."

"What are you doing with _him_?" Weasley asked, the final word sounding foul in his mouth.

"He needed some fresh air," Granger said primly, her tone very clearly warning them to be nice.

"Malfoy," Potter said, stepping forward. "I- I just wanted to say …"

Draco raised one eyebrow and tilted his head up towards Potter's voice.

"Good game," Potter finished lamely.

"It was," Draco said honestly.

Silence again, so heavy it seemed to make a wall around them, blocking out all the nice, distracting noises.

"Where are your friends?" Weasley asked sourly.

Draco shrugged. He assumed Weasley meant Crabbe and Goyle. If he had to guess he'd lay odds that they were with Zabini. Muscle like theirs tended to gravitate towards power and if anyone was going to take Draco's place, he honestly hoped it was Blaise. At least he had some sense.

"What are you two doing out?" Granger asked, sounding too cheery by far.

"Uh," Potter said.

"We were going to, um…"

Draco rolled his eyes behind his lids. "You were going to go throw snowballs at some Slytherins."

"Basically," Weasley said sullenly. He sounded as if Draco knowing meant the plan had to be abandoned. And it did.

"Who and where?" Draco asked.

Potter was slow in answering and Draco didn't need to see to know the three of them were looking at him warily. "Some fifth years who hexed Colin Creevy last week. They're down by the lake watching Hagrid free the squid from the ice."

Draco nodded. The stupid squid got himself stuck in the ice every year and had to be freed so that the merpeople could coax it deeper where it wouldn't be injured.

"Is it just the two of you?"

"Uh, no. Seamus and Neville are meeting us down there."

It could be worse, Draco imagined. Not much, but still worse. "Do you know where the fifth years are exactly?"

"On the shore near the pier," Weasley said. "Why do you even care?"

"Because you're not going to throw snowballs at them," Draco said firmly, using the same tone he did when giving Crabbe and Goyle orders. "You are going to do something _better_."

* * *

><p>"I never thought I'd say this," Weasley said an hour later, "but you're brilliant to have around, Malfoy."<p>

They were in Hagrid's hut - oh, the lows Draco was reduced to - having what someone had the audacity to call tea. It was warm, at any rate, and helped return feeling to Draco's fingers and toes, as did being squished between Longbottom and Granger as they sat on the edge of Hagrid's bed.

"When they slid down the bank into the water and the squid grabbed them!" Longbottom laughed.

"It'll take them a week to warm up!" Finnigan chortled.

Hagrid chuckled but quickly covered it up with a cough. "It was very sad," he said solemnly. "You should all learn a lesson from what happened by the lake today and remember to watch out for patches of ice. But," he added, his voice dropping to an excited whisper, "mostly you should learn that when you want revenge, go to the sneakiest person you know for help. Nice going, Malfoy." He sounded almost proud when he said the last bit and Draco wondered what kind of person could so quickly forgive everything Draco had done to Hagrid over the years. Gryffindors were certainly a strange breed.

Granger huffed for the millionth time. She'd kept up a disapproving attitude but Draco heard her laughing when his housemates slid down the embankment and into the tentacles of the half-freed squid. She'd been so tickled that he actually forgot he couldn't see what everyone was enjoying so much and instead just enjoyed her happiness.

"How've you been?" Hagrid asked gently and the merriment ceased.

Draco could feel their eyes on him and calmly took a sip of his "tea." He decided, on a whim, to answer honestly. It was the company he was keeping corrupting him, surely.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"Tough luck," Finnigan said quietly. "Incredible catch though."

"Seamus!" Granger hissed.

"If I had to go down, at least it was in a blaze of glory," Draco said and was surrounded by supportive male voices, all sounding as if he'd simply broken his arm and been laid up for the remainder of a game.

"You did not go down!" Granger snapped, raising her voice to be heard over the boys. "You are still very much alive and kicking."

He smiled sardonically in her direction.

"You are," she insisted more quietly and she was so uncertain that he couldn't help what he did next.

"You're right. I am. I've beaten Potter at quidditch at any rate so there's really no loss there. Time to find something new to best him at."

The laughter returned then and Granger scooted the tiniest bit closer to his side on the bed.

* * *

><p>The following Monday found Draco Malfoy sitting at the Gryffindor table for dinner. It was <em>not<em> his idea and part of him honestly hoped most people in the Great Hall would assume his recent disability was being used against him. And it was.

The Gryffindors had tailed Granger in order to find his room - apparently its exact location was hidden from the general population so that he might have some privacy. (Or, as Weasley said, so that he wouldn't be hexed to within an inch of his life now that he was away from the safety of the dungeons and basically defenseless.) Once they knew where Draco was they snuck down just before dinner and kidnapped him. He could have fought them off, but he had just gotten used to the way his mattress felt post-tantrum and he didn't want to break it in a third time.

So here he was sitting at the Gryffindor table. It was tense for a few minutes and then Ginny Weasley asked if Draco had any advice for getting back at some Hufflepuff who kept copying her answers in Transfiguration.

"Is she particularly slow- what am I saying, she's a Hufflepuff! Buy a Mix-'Em-Up Quill at Jenkins' Supply in Hogsmeade. You write the answer to question two in the spot for question one, question three goes with question two and so on. When you're done the answers move to the right spots and whoever was copying you will get everything wrong."

"See?" Finnigan asked someone further down the table. "What'd I tell ya? We should've brought a Slytherin to the table years ago."

"Potatoes on the right, and a mince pie on the left," Granger said quietly from beside him. She'd loaded his plate for him. He should have been annoyed. It was insulting at best and implied all sorts of things at worst. He was having far too much fun though. Who knew you could laugh _with_ Gryffindors and not just _at_ them?

It happened during the fourth recounting that night of the squid and the Slytherins. Someone slapped Draco on the back and his eyes flew open in shock. He saw something.

It was magic, he was certain, but not his. It shone for a moment in the blackness before disappearing, only to appear again a moment later. A long band of gold moving across the room from the direction of the High Table towards what, if Draco was right, was the Ravenclaw table. It appeared again and again for nearly fifteen minutes before finally disappearing entirely.

Draco nearly asked Granger if she could see anyone using magic but kept it to himself. They still hadn't told anyone about his being able to see - at least he thought she hadn't - and if she wanted to test this new development there would be no choice. Whoever was performing that magic … It was a teacher, he was sure. But who?

"Hello," a serene voice said.

"Luna!" Ginny Weasley said and there was some shuffling of seats. Draco was pushed aside and felt who he assumed was Loony Lovegood from Ravenclaw sitting on his left. "You said you'd eat dinner with us!"

"I got held up at my own table."

Despite the warm welcome she got the conversation quickly flowed over Luna much as it did Draco. They were talked about but very rarely were they spoken to directly save for the few minutes after Longbottom got it into his head that perhaps Lovegood was the only person in the school who hadn't heard about the squid incident.

She laughed lightly at the story but Draco thought she was being polite more than anything else.

"Loo- Luna," Draco amended quickly, careful to keep his voice pitched low so Granger wasn't likely to hear on his other side. Hopefully Weasley's reenactment of the 1990 Quidditch World Cup would keep her occupied.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Was there anything - strange going on at the Ravenclaw Table before you left?"

Luna considered that for a moment. "Well, Cho was flirting across the aisle with Blaise Zabini. And there was one less salt shaker than pepper shakers on the table."

Draco waited a beat to be sure that last bit of information had processed correctly. "What about anything to do with the High Table? Were any of the teachers watching the Ravenclaws?"

"No," she said. "Though Dumbledore and I were playing a game of chess. I think he let me win this time."

"You were playing chess with Dumbledore?"

"He moves the pieces magically from his seat."

Draco nodded, ending the conversation. He could see Dumbledore's magic too. This was something to look into, but how, without Granger finding out?

* * *

><p>Draco ate dinner with the Gryffindors every night that week. On the third night he saw the unbinding spell Snape cast to free a first year Slytherin from a body-bind hex. On the fourth he saw Harry's spell to upend a bowl of fruit salad at the Slytherin table.<p>

It was odd, Draco thought, experiencing the inter-House rivalry from this side of the Great Hall. Slytherins plotted and planned until there was almost no way to trace the pranks back to them, then waited until the privacy of the dungeons to do most of their celebrating. Gryffindors decided to prank Slytherins and just did it, the celebration coming immediately after (or even before). This was, three out of four times, why they got caught. Not even the most biased professor could overlook the entire Gryffindor table looking directly at the Slytherin second year who was magically covered head-to-toe in frog slime in the middle of dinner.

The following week was the first of December and found Draco in class. He didn't ask permission to return, didn't even tell anyone until breakfast that morning. By then he knew the path to the Great Hall well enough to get there on his own. When Potter asked if he'd like them to drop him at his room on their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Draco said he'd go with them instead. There was a pregnant silence but no one argued with him.

Potter and, shame upon shame, Longbottom walked on either side of him as they made their way up to the third floor. Draco tripped only once and Longbottom covered it up by pretending he had tripped and knocked into Draco. Maybe the great lump wasn't so bad after all.

Only someone who knew Snape would realize he was at all surprised to find Draco in class. The pause between "settle" and "down" was just a split second too long.

"Well, it's about time you returned, Malfoy," he said derisively but the hand on Draco's shoulder as Snape passed by during the lecture portion of the class was welcoming.

Draco waited until the practical lesson began to open his eyes. He had a working theory about his ability to see not only his own magic, but now the magic of a few others as well, and needed to spend time in class to see if it held any water. There was a slight hiccup during that first hour when he saw Longbottom's awkwardly cast inflation hex. In the end though, he had to admit Longbottom _might_ be a strong wizard.

Strength, that was what it all came down to. Dumbledore, Snape, and Potter were all extraordinarily powerful wizards. Draco didn't kid himself, he was nowhere near that list, but he theorized that he was more likely to see his own magic first, being connected to it and all. Where this would stop, he had no idea. He wasn't up to thinking that far ahead, fearing he would get his hopes up. For the moment, though, it was a nice distraction.

* * *

><p>"You could have told me," Granger said quietly at lunch. He couldn't quite place her tone, she didn't seem angry, but she was most definitely not happy either.<p>

"Told you what?" he asked cautiously, pitching his voice as low as hers. If she didn't want her friends to hear this, he didn't either.

"That you were going back to classes."

He shrugged and quickly chewed and swallowed a spear of broccoli. "I didn't think it was important. Saves you some trouble, doesn't it?"

She let out a slow breath and he was fairly certain she was glaring at him. "You should have told me! I had plans and a schedule and -"

"And now you have a lot more free time. You're welcome."

Several moments passed in tense silence. The bench lifted incrementally beneath him, a sign that someone nearby had stood. Something - a fork or spoon - clanged loudly against a plate, and a bookbag hit him in the shoulder and head before Granger marched away.

"What did I do?" Draco asked the table at large, figuring someone would answer him.

"No idea," Weasley said. "But I'd wait at least a day to even try apologizing."

"Well that won't work," Draco said sullenly.

"Why not?"

"She's the only one of you Gryffindor idiots taking Ancient Runes!"

He'd resigned himself to following the Gryffindor class schedule, if only because they were the only ones he currently trusted not to send him down a flight of stairs. That, in and of itself, was horrifying, but the result, Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, had been worse. True to House, they enjoyed the dirt much more than anyone should. Draco didn't think he'd be clean ever again.

"Where would she go?" he asked, seeing no choice but to make up with Granger. Merlin, he hated apologizing.

"The library." "The common room." "The astronomy tower."

In other words, up.

"We could take you to class," Potter offered.

"Do any of you even know where the classroom is?"

The silence was answer enough. He supposed he didn't _have_ to go to Ancient Runes. One more missed class wouldn't make much difference.

He waited until lunch was mostly done and the Great Hall mostly cleared out to go back to his room. He didn't want to risk running into anyone, literally or figuratively.

Once inside his room he closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, allowing himself to slide to the floor. His primary goal today had been figuring out how his sight worked now, but a close second was doing that "trying" thing Granger had ranted about weeks ago. His first day back in the world hadn't been so bad. It hadn't been so great either, but that would change. It had to.

"You should have told me."

"Ah!" Draco yelled, jumping so fast that his shoulder banged painfully into the doorknob. "Granger! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I didn't think yelling at you in the middle of the Great Hall would be a good idea," she said and he could hear something slide and fall with a dull thump. A book, if the direction of her voice was any indication.

"And why are you going to yell at me? Have I upset some brilliant plan of yours by doing the very thing you demanded I do and going outside of this damned room?"

"You should have told me!"

"Why!"

"Because I was helping you! I had to change all of my plans, my whole life to help you-"

He scoffed. "You did not! All the time you spent with me was time you were already going to spend studying. You missed nothing. And what if you had? Isn't this good? You've finally got your life back to spend with your idiot Gryffindor friends! Brilliant! Have fun!"

He stepped forward and fell to the right, counting on the bed to be exactly where he thought.

It was, which was just as well, he didn't think he could handle Granger dragging him to the infirmary if he'd bashed his head on the bedside table.

"Get out, if you please," he said, waving dismissively towards the door. "I have blind people things to do."

She let out an angry sound that was almost enough to have him reaching for his wand, but instead she just left, slamming the door so hard that his clock shuddered on the mantle.

He skipped dinner, ignoring the pounding of Gryffindor fists on his door until they gave up trying to coax him out of the room. He didn't even bother changing for bed, simply lay there until boredom gave way to sleep.

* * *

><p>The door banging open was enough to wake him up, lucky since the intruder began speaking immediately and didn't seem inclined to slow down.<p>

"What did you do?" Potter asked.

"She was impossible before," Weasley cried, sitting on the end of the bed, "but now she won't even help us with our homework!"

"I assume you're talking about Granger," Draco said, propping himself nonchalantly up on his elbows.

"You broke her!" Weasley snapped. "And you are going to fix her!"

"Why? So you can all pass your classes?"

"Yes!"

"What Ron means," Potter said, "is that Hermione is angry and hurt and the best outcome of that situation is you hexed to within an inch of your life."

"What is she even so wound up about?" Draco asked. "All I did was go to classes! Which is exactly what she wanted!"

Draco heard his chair pulled across the floor and Potter's body settling into it. "As far as we can figure from six years of knowing Hermione - and from what Ginny and Parvati said - she thinks you don't want her help anymore."

"So?"

"Helping," Weasley said slowly, as if speaking to a first year, "is what Hermione does. It usually comes off like she's telling you what to do because she thinks she's smarter than you-"

"Which she usually is," Potter admitted.

"-but she really just thinks she's helping and if you take that away from her, so help you God, she will make you pay."

"So you're here for my health?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but mostly ours. Who do you think she'll turn on when she's finished you off?"

Draco sighed. If they honestly expected him to apologize to Granger just to save their hides, they were bigger idiots than he'd thought. But the idea that she'd come after him first was enough to get him out of bed.

"Fine," he muttered, "but only because I'd rather not be blinded and castrated in the same year."

"Hold on," Potter said when Draco headed for the door. "We have to be careful or we'll be caught."

"Caught?" Draco asked. "How late is it?"

"Two," Weasley said.

"In the _morning_?"

"It took us a few hours to finally agree to come down here."

"And," Potter added, "we wanted to be sure Hermione wasn't in the common room."

"And you're supposed to defeat the Dark Lord," Draco said, shaking his head.

"Don't call him that," Weasley said just as something light and silky fell over Draco's head. That alone would have surprised him, but he could _see_ the thing. Not clearly, it was a blur of black, somehow darker than the usual blackness he saw. It didn't glow like a spell either and he had to wonder just what it was the Gryffindors had covered him with.

"It's an invisibility cloak," Potter explained.

"Of course it is," Draco said. Of course the Golden Boy would have something incredibly rare and valuable and perfect for running around and having adventures all over Hogwarts.

The climb to Gryffindor Tower took a good half hour and by the end of it Draco wanted to fling both boys down the stairs. When they finally made it into their common room Draco was pushed into a chair and told to wait.

"Gin," Weasley whispered. "Ginny. **Ginny!**"

"Ah! Jeez, Ron! Oh good, he's here. I can finally sleep in my own bed." Draco heard her flop out of whatever couch he assumed she'd been snoozing on and stomp up some stairs.

"Boys can't go up the stairs to the girls' dorms," Potter said.

"Sucks to be a Gryffindor," Draco muttered.

"Oh, God," he heard Granger say a few minutes later.

"No!" Ginny Weasley snapped. "You are going to go in there are listen to whatever they have to say because otherwise they are never going to let me go to bed and _I need sleep!_"

Granger marched over, stopping a few feet before Draco. "What?" she asked.

"You two can't be here," Draco said.

"_What_?"

"Your idiot friends."

"Fine by me," Weasley said.

"Good luck," Potter whispered.

Draco waited until their footsteps faded up a set of stairs behind him. "I'm not going to apologize," he said, "because we both know I did nothing wrong."

"Hm!"

"I will, however, tell you that I most certainly do still need your help. We have Charms tomorrow! Who's going to show me how to hold my wand? Who will help me study by reviewing every little thing we learned in excruciating detail? Who's going to silently judge me when I help Longbottom get back at Zabini for hexing him?"

"You're saying you want me to forgive you so I can bother you?"

"Basically."

"You'd think going blind would make you less annoying," she said, though was obviously not speaking to him, only at him. "Fine, you're forgiven. Let's get you upstairs and you can tell the boys to come out of hiding."

"Wait. Why am I going upstairs?"

"It'll take forever for you to get downstairs, even with your little fog trick. You're better off sleeping in the boy's dorm. Come on."

Having just been forgiven and too tired to fight, Draco allowed Granger to lead him upstairs. It struck him as odd that Potter and Weasley couldn't get to her room, but she could easily get to theirs. Godric Gryffindor, he decided, was one kinky man.

Granger stopped him and knocked on a door before opening it and pulling him inside.

"Everything's fine," she said, not even bothering to lower her voice, "we're friends with Malfoy again."

"Thank Merlin!" Ron said, then paused. "Never thought I'd say that."

"Hermione!" Longbottom squeaked. "What are you doing in here?"

"This is the _boys' dorm!_" Finnigan yelled. "How many times must we go over this?"

"I never would have guessed from your high-pitched screams," Draco said.

"Malfoy needs a place to sleep. He'll never make it back downstairs."

"He can't sleep here," Potter said.

"No offense, Malfoy," Thomas said, "but none of us want to double up with you."

The first time Draco saw Hermione's magic, she was tapping her wand against a wall. The spell expanded and for a split second he saw a blurry four-poster before the magic faded.

"Honestly," she sighed, "how can you have been going here for six years and you don't even know how the dorms work?"

She took Draco's hand and pulled him gently towards the bed until he was touching one of the posts.

"Sleep tight," she said breezily and left.

"We are never discussing this," Draco said a minute later.

The Gryffindors readily agreed.

* * *

><p><em>reviews=love<em>


	3. Chapter 3

Revised disclaimer: The book that's quoted is C.S. Lewis' _Out of the Silent Planet_. I do not claim any ownership to it, though I do highly recommend it.

AN: I hope you guys like this final section. A lot happens in it but there was just no good place to break it without making the final chapter super short. So instead you get a super long final chapter. Enjoy!

**Fearless in the Dark**

3/3

The castle was oddly full at Christmas, most parents wanting their children to stay within the safety of its walls. Draco wasn't sure if he preferred this. Given his blindness and his mother's continued distance there was no way he'd be going home. Having the freedom to walk down the corridors and not having to worry that anyone would see him if he stumbled would have been nice. But with the Gryffindors all staying around he didn't have any time to get lonely. If he ever had even the smallest chance of becoming bored one of them would inevitably turn up at his door asking how to prank so-and-so or inviting him down to Hagrid's or up to the common room.

It was annoying as hell and more fun than he thought he'd ever had.

Still, on Christmas morning he wasn't expecting much. Sure, he was Gryffindor House's new secret weapon, but he wasn't their _friend_, not someone they'd give presents to. There would be something from his mother, of course, just enough to remind him that she cared but not enough to remind Voldemort that she did.

Draco crawled forward on the bed, feeling for his trunk, atop which his present would be resting. What he felt was not one small present, but several presents, piled high. He frowned in confusion and pulled the first one to him. It was soft and awkwardly shaped. He knew before he even pulled the paper away that it was clothing. A knit sweater, far more cheaply made than anything else he owned, but warm and oddly comforting to hold. He slipped it on over the old quidditch jersey he wore to bed and was instantly warmer.

His next present was a pack of chocolate frogs, followed by something large and heavy that he got up to open. He had thought at first that beneath the paper was a box in which would be his present, but it didn't feel quite right for that. It was long and rectangular and made of something not quite like metal but there was no latch he could find. It was smooth in some places, while in others the material had been reduced to a stiff mesh. Attached to the top was a long, slim piece of metal, almost like a wand, that he could pull up and angle in nearly any direction. Also on the top was inset something that felt a bit like glass, but again wasn't quite. Above this there were buttons, five of them. Curiosity getting the better of him and he pressed the long, center one. There was a faint crackling noise coming from the box and Draco wondered if he had better take cover.

"_The last drops of the thundershower had barely ceased falling when the Pedestrian stuffed his map into his pocket, settled his pack more comfortably on his tired shoulders, and stepped out from the shelter of a large chestnut-tree into the middle of the road. A violent yellow sunset was…"_

Draco gaped. He knew those words, had read them more than a dozen times. This box was reading to him from one of his favorite novels. He slid his fingers reverently over it, feeling the vibrations from the sound as his palms touched the mesh bits on the front. He should open his other presents, he'd felt at least two more, but couldn't quite bring himself to stop listening. Instead, he turned the box so the side from which the sound came was facing his desk, and curled himself up on the floor, back to the drawers, to listen.

* * *

><p>He eventually found his mother's gift, a pan of fudge straight from the Manor kitchens, as well as several cardboard box with small rectangular <em>things<em> in them. He really wasn't sure what they were. They each had two holes in the middle and he could feel some sort of tape on the bottoms and he honestly had no idea what use they served.

He let the heavy box continue reading, mostly because he wasn't quite sure how to make it stop but also because it was simply nice.

Granger came round just after the clock struck eight and giggled when she saw him. He decided there was probably a Gryffindor lion or something equally horrendous on the sweater but was too comfy to take it off.

"So you like it?" she asked.

"You got me the box?" he asked and he heard a click just as the reading stopped. The bed shifted beneath him as she sat.

"I had to ask Ron's dad to help me. It's a boom box, a muggle device for playing music, so he had to get all the changes approved by the Ministry. I got you some music, I really wasn't sure what you'd like that was available on muggle tapes so I had the boys buy some. I think they were just glad they didn't have to think of something to get you themselves. And there are books too, ones I saw on your shelf. I figured starting with this one would be a good idea since your copy was pretty worn."

He nodded. "It's great."

"Really?" she asked. She sounded ecstatic but he could hear the small bit of worry.

"I don't lie on Christmas."

She laughed. "I'm sure. Hurry up and put on your shoes. It's time for the feast and everyone in Gryffindor is going down in their pajamas."

"I go blind before all the best things," he said, but smiled as he did.

"Oh, it's for the best, trust me. You're wearing a Weasley sweater."

* * *

><p>The sweater earned Draco a fair amount of ribbing from the Gryffindors. It was a grey that was probably supposed to be silver, Granger said, adding that the color choice was probably because Harry had been getting a green one for years and Mrs. Weasley was nothing if not a traditionalist when it came to presents.<p>

After everyone finished eating there was a long discussion about where to adjourn to. Draco had assumed they'd all go to Gryffindor Tower but apparently they wanted friends from other Houses to join them in their celebrations. In the end they agreed to go to "the _Room_."

"You're going to have to explain this one to me," Draco said as he allowed himself to be led up the stairs. He was too full and too full of holiday cheer to bother pretending he didn't appreciate the help finding his way around disappearing steps and moving staircases.

"The Room of Requirement," Thomas said, "one of the Founders' better inventions."

"It can be anything you need it to be," Potter said. "If you're hungry, it'll give you a feast; if you're tired, it'll give you a bed; if you need to use the loo, it'll give you a room full of chamber pots."

"Dumbledore, I'll bet," someone whose voice Draco only vaguely recognized said. He didn't remember the voice from breakfast and almost tripped when he turned in surprise. Several hands reached out to grab him, but no one said anything. He was righted and that was that.

"Fred! George!" Ron and Ginny yelled and there was a great deal of talking and not a lot of explaining while everyone questioned the return of the infamous Weasley twins.

Finally, one of them, Draco had no idea which, said, "Mum said she was making a sweater for a Malfoy, didn't believe her though."

"He really friendly?" asked the other one.

The answering chorus of voices was enough to warm Draco's heart. Apparently, he was a Gryffindor now. It wasn't nearly as horrifying a thought as it should have been.

"Good to have you!" one of the twins said, putting an arm around Draco's shoulders.

"You'll fit in fine!" the other said, doing the same on Draco's other side. Immediately Draco was lifted between them and found himself being carried up the stairs.

"We've always wished for someone more dastardly."

"And now here you are!"

"Is it true you came up with that squid prank?"

"Brilliant!"

"We'll have to show you some of our old unused plans, see if you can't work them in during your last couple years."

"It'd be a shame if they went to waste."

* * *

><p>The Room of Requirement was wonderful. Because the whole thing was magical, Draco could see it. Not well, but it was better than the usual nothing. The walls were a dull grey to him and even though he could almost make out people milling about, their edges were fuzzy and unless they stayed very still they'd disappear into the background. In the end, he simply closed his eyes and enjoyed his Butterbeer.<p>

About the third hour of celebrating, Longbottom asked if Draco had liked his present and Draco admitted he hadn't tried any of the music the Gryffindor boys had picked out for him. The twins immediately insisted on hearing this muggle music and Granger and a twin disappeared for several minutes, running to his room to retrieve everything. About half an hour later they discovered a song named "Macarena" and when Finnigan told them there was a dance, insisted on learning it.

Draco was never happier to be blind than the moment the twins realized they couldn't force him to perform it as they were every single student who had the bad luck to come close enough to be grabbed.

They played the song a total of twelve times before Ginny snapped that she'd blow Draco's present up if they didn't play something else.

All in all everything was going fine until the moment Ernie Macmillan took exception to Draco joining in their celebration. He had been talking about it for a while before his voice finally drowned out all other conversation.

"…last year! And now just because he's blind we have to play nice?"

"Ernie," Potter said quietly. Even though the two boys were across the room from one another, Potter could be heard clearly in the silence.

"He's got a point," a voice Draco didn't recognize at all said.

"The things we did here," Macmillan went on, "what right does he have to any of that?"

"And what did you do here?" Draco asked before Potter could defend him. It was one thing to be friendly with Gryffindors, it was quite another to let them fight his battles. And really, it was a stupid club. There was no reason for Macmillan to be getting so worked up over it. "Do you honestly think whatever it was that _you_ could do it any better than me?"

Macmillan chuckled. "Fine. You think you're worthy of being one of us? A duel. That's what we did, you Death Eater scum, we learned to fight your kind."

"Ernie!" Granger gasped.

"You know he can't fight," Weasley muttered and if Draco didn't know any better he'd say the boy was trying to spare his feelings.

This time Draco chuckled. "I am more than capable of holding my own against a _Hufflepuff_. Sight or no."

Things happened quickly after that. The twins fully believed his absurd declaration, that or they just wanted to see him knocked on his ass. They made quick work of the other students, telling them all to get back, form the usual rows. Apparently, they really had done this sort of thing a lot since everyone knew exactly where to go.

"Here you go," Fred or George said, taking Draco by the shoulders and turning him. "You're facing Macmillan straight on. Try not to die or we'll have to put 'Killed by a Hufflepuff' on your tombstone and I think you might be kicked out of the Malfoy plot for that sort of thing."

"He is not doing this!" Granger snapped, coming up to them. She'd been yelling at the other twin for the last two minutes.

"I'll be fine," Draco said and the Weasley took that as his cue to leave.

"You will not be fine! You can't see! How will you know when to put up a shield or even where to aim? You could hit someone who isn't a complete idiot!"

"I'll be fine," he said again, more quietly.

She grabbed the front of his sweater. "You nearly died three months ago. Do you really want to end up in the infirmary again?"

"Because it's Christmas," he said, "I'll tell you a secret." He leaned forward and was pleasantly surprised when his aim was true and he felt her curls against his right cheek. "I can see all magic, not just my own," he whispered.

She pulled back in shock and he said, "Aim me at him."

She was too surprised by his admission to argue any longer and pushed his left shoulder slightly.

"Good luck," she managed.

"Don't need it," he said cockily.

Macmillan began with a lazy stupefy, which Draco blocked with equal boredom. The fool followed that up with a body-bind hex, a jelly-legs curse, and, after he became utterly frustrated at being held off so easily by a blind man, a string of spells that were far too dangerous for a friendly Christmas duel. Draco blocked them all and, only when Macmillan shouted a slur about Narcissa, did Draco let out a stupefy so forceful it broke through the boy's shield.

There was utter silence for several moments until the twins broke out in whoops of joy and Draco was lifted on a pair of shoulders and carried around the room amid thunderous applause.

* * *

><p>It took a while to explain, especially since Granger had only just been let in on his new ability. The twins still weren't fully convinced that his blindness wasn't all an act when he excused himself an hour later. He planned on asking Potter to help him downstairs but Granger offered herself before he could. He carried his boom box, Granger his music, and together they walked in silence.<p>

Once in his room Granger began straightening up the mess he'd left behind that morning while he placed his boom box on his bedside table.

"You're lucky this fudge got hidden underneath all this wrapping paper," she said, "otherwise I don't think I could have stopped George from taking it. Who gave it to you?"

"My mother."

"And the chocolate frogs?"

He shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed. "No idea. There's probably a note somewhere."

Granger searched through the papers, crumpling them all together until, "Pansy." There was an odd sort of strangled quality to her voice when she said the name. "Have you seen her since…?"

"No. But she's one of my oldest friends. She's avoiding me now because she knows I wouldn't want pity and because I've been spending a shameful amount of time with you and your idiot friends."

She sat down beside him and patted the hand resting on his knee. "You really need to stop calling them that."

"Why, exactly?"

"Because they're _your_ idiot friends too."

He fought to keep from smiling.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly. "About the magic?"

"I wanted to study it myself, I guess. It only really set in the last couple weeks."

"Well, I'm glad anyway." Her fingers wrapped around his hand and he spent a minute simply enjoying the feel of her hand on his.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you a present," he said finally.

She was sitting so close that her hair brushed against him when she shook her head. "You didn't need to."

"I should have," he insisted.

"You'll make it up to me," she said and sounded sure. He turned his hand over, wrapping his fingers around her hand now and rubbing his thumb over the back. He could feel the calluses on her fingers from all the writing she did, as well as one near the edge of her palm from her wand work.

"Can I-" It wasn't like him to ask permission and though he didn't finish or wait for an answer, it was a sign of how self-conscious he was that he began at all. "Hermione," he said, tasting the name. "Close your eyes."

"Okay," she said after only a moment's pause.

He slid his hand out from under hers, ran it along her wrist, over the sleeve of her own Weasley sweater. He felt her shudder as his fingers brushed past her elbow and swallowed a lump in his throat. He paused at the collar of the sweater, giving both of them the opportunity to back out. Finally he crossed the barrier and she stilled instantly when his fingers touched her skin. He skimmed over the column of her neck, bringing his right hand up to cup her chin with both hands.

He wished he could see her, now that he knew her, really take her in the way he never had before. This would have to do.

His thumbs brushed her cheeks and he moved his hands up to lay them flat against her face. He felt the gentle curve of her eyes, the soft bow of her lips. Her nose was small and he ran one middle finger up along it to her forehead while his left hand moved to the side, under her ear and into the soft curls of her hair. His left hand pushed a few locks behind her ear before dropping to her shoulder. He pulled her to him, pressing a gentle kiss against her mouth. She returned it, one of her hands sliding to his thigh and he opened his mouth in shock. She paused and he worried he'd ruined everything, but then her mouth opened and she slid her tongue past his lips. There was a bit of a wrestling match and he bent back, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to pull her with him.

She stopped, her hands coming to his chest to push him away and he instantly let go.

"Mom said never to kiss a boy when you can see a bed," she said, breathless.

"What if _he_ can't see the bed?"

She pushed him lightly but her fingers dug into the fabric, keeping him close. "I should go. I should really go."

He didn't answer, she'd be a fool not to know what he thought about that.

She leaned into him for just a moment before standing and moving away from the bed. "I was right," she said proudly at the door.

"About what?"

"You did make it up to me."

* * *

><p>Draco was sleeping soundly, dreaming of running his hands over a warm body and through a thick head of hair that tickled his nose when he bent in to breathe in her scent.<p>

It was really a shame to interrupt such a good dream, and early enough that it was still just barely Christmas too.

The explosion was enough to shake every window in the castle. Draco sat up immediately and waited, listening for whatever would come next. It came almost slowly, the stones falling from the high towers. When they hit, the ground shook and Draco ran for his dresser, grabbing the first clothes his hands found and pulling them on. Whatever was happening it was bad. He'd be the last informed, he knew. Professors first, then students. One blind boy in a room all by himself wouldn't be high on anyone's list.

He was quite surprised then, when a small pop sounded.

"Mister Draco!" Peech squeaked as her small, strong arms wrapped around his knees.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying not to lose his balance since he only had one shoe on. She pulled away and pushed him onto the bed so that she could put his other shoe on for him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore made sure that Peech knew it was her duty to keep an eye on Mister Draco! And I is knowing that when the Death Eaters attacked, Peech would have to tell you so that you would not be frightened and try to leave- Where is you going?" she demanded, sounding like an irate mother.

"I-" He really didn't know. If the party was still going on - and with the Weasley twins there he didn't imagine it would end before dawn - then they'd all be fighting by now. Who would he tell who didn't already know? Who could he help?

"You will stay here," Peech said firmly.

Draco stepped away from the door and sat on his chest, nodding.

She laid a hand on his arm. "I will be back," she said and was gone.

Draco didn't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't the fighting kind. He didn't run headfirst into danger like some bloody Gryffindor. But he almost had. He'd wanted to know that his friends were all right, that Granger was all right. What was wrong with him? So he'd gotten a few Christmas presents. So he'd kissed the girl. That did not mean he was going to be an idiot and get himself killed. He was _blind_. He'd only beaten Macmillan because the boy was an overconfident fool. There was no way he stood a chance against anyone as strong as a Death Eater.

And why should he? Wasn't he on their side?

No, he was on _his_ side. He was a Malfoy, a survivor. Survivors were smart. Survivors stayed in their nice, safe rooms that none of the attackers even knew existed. Survivors most certainly did _not_ run out to track down and check on people who'd hexed them senseless barely six months before.

He could hear screaming now, distant and terrified. The faintest scent of smoke was in the air. The castle was under siege.

"Dammit," he said, standing, "I really need to stop hanging around the Gryffindors."

* * *

><p>Mist flowed from his wand, showing him the way. He'd given up speaking the spell and his will alone was tumultuous enough to give rise to small storm clouds. He didn't care. He hurried up the stairs, knowing only that it had been a long climb to the Room of Requirement.<p>

He started hearing fighting at the fifth floor, but passed it by when he didn't recognize any of the voices. On the sixth floor he heard adult voices that he knew didn't belong to professors - at least not current professors. Moody and Lupin were calling out spells and orders to students Draco had been partying with earlier. They were at the other end of the corridor. Closer to him were Death Eaters. He could hear his aunt cackling.

This was a very, very bad idea, he thought as he watched the spell fire. No one had noticed him yet. He could feel dust in the air and when he reached out felt rubble blocking him from view. That was something, he supposed. Now he just had to get his legs to move so he could run back down to his room and hide like a good little blind boy. This temporary insanity was liable to get him killed.

Someone screamed. He honestly didn't know who but some damned borrowed Gryffindor instinct overtook him and he jumped out, bringing his wand up and leveling it in the direction of the Death Eaters. Two stupefies, aimed straight at gathering magic, were enough to bring the two of them down.

"Draco!" Bellatrix was scandalized.

Of course he'd missed her. Only the worst of all of them. There were at least two more standing but they ignored him, leaving him to her. Perfect.

"I will assume," she said, her voice moving around him, "that you attacked your own because you were unable to see who they were."

Draco didn't answer, really not wanting to.

"Still," she said, "such foolishness must be punished."

There was absolutely no question what the next word out of Bellatrix Lestrange's mouth would be.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco cried. Bellatrix blocked it easily and slashed at him. He put up a shield but was slammed back into a wall much as Macmillan had been earlier. Distantly, Draco felt some remorse.

"Draco," Bellatrix said slowly, advancing on him. "You are making very bad choices tonight. Your brain must have been addled when you took that fall months ago. We'll have to fix that."

"Crucio!" Bellatrix cackled just as someone to Draco's right thundered, "Stupefy!"

The curse hit Draco for one excruciating second before the second spell threw Bellatrix' aim off and her curse flew upward. Draco had barely a moment to breathe normally and thank his lucky stars for whoever had saved him before he heard a deep crack and the wall and part of the ceiling fell down upon him.

* * *

><p>Draco recognized the infirmary by the smell. There was nothing at all for his nose to sniff out aside from the heavy, overpowering scent of medicinal potions. Somewhere to his left Dumbledore was speaking quietly but closer on his right there was a persistent sniffling.<p>

He opened his eyes and found that he was still blind as before.

"Look who's finally up," a groggy sounding Potter muttered from Draco's left. So that was who Dumbledore was talking to.

"Don't tell me I have the privilege of joining _the_ Harry Potter in his annual end-of-year trip to the infirmary."

"Ha ha."

"You both gave us quite the scare, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said.

A great sob welled up on Draco's right and someone fell against him, clutching his arm and crying into his blanket. "I is so happy Master Draco is alive!" Peech wailed.

Soft footsteps sounded and when Dumbledore next spoke he seemed to be sitting between Harry and Draco's beds. "When Peech heard you had been injured she would not allow herself to be removed from your side."

"Thank you, Peech," Draco said quietly, wishing the others weren't so close they could hear. She sniffed in response. "I'm assuming we won?"

"Most spectacularly," Dumbledore said. "Apparently the Death Eaters were counting on some support from your fellow Slytherins - or at least were not counting on any resistance from that quarter. Your housemates seem to be having changes of heart about Voldemort due in part to your recent friendship with Mister Potter."

Potter must have seen the horrified expression on Draco's face and took some pity on him, explaining, "Fred and George say that, from what they could gather from Crabbe and Goyle, the Slytherins actually think you're corrupting us, not the other way around."

"That's something at least," Draco murmured, thinking about Fred and George and Crabbe and Goyle and the mess that must have been.

"I have been informed that you have recently discovered a new skill, Mister Malfoy, is this correct?" Dumbledore asked.

"Looks that way," Draco said.

"You will be careful," Dumbledore said. "The magics which come to us naturally are usually the easiest to master - and the most dangerous."

Draco nodded solemnly, more because he knew it was what the old man wanted than because he agreed. "Of course, sir."

"Good. Very good. Glad to have you with us," he added. He stood and padded quietly around the bed. "Come along, Peech. The boys need their rest."

Peech pulled herself away from Draco's side and shuffled woefully out the door behind Dumbledore.

Potter waited all of three seconds to say, "If you hurt Hermione, I and every Weasley on the planet will kill you."

"Where exactly is this coming from, Potter?"

"Don't lie to me. She was more concerned about you than me-"

"I am _blind_. I naturally evoke sympathy now."

"-and no less than three times did she start and then stop saying things that I'm sure from the way she blushed and looked at your unconscious body, would mean the end of the twins' bet on whether or not the two of you are dating."

Draco lost track of the sentence quickly after the part about Granger looking at his unconscious body but he came back just in time to hear Potter add, "So break her heart and die."

"We are not together," Draco felt the need to point out.

Potter rolled over as loudly as possible, presumably away from Draco, and muttered, "Like that matters."

* * *

><p>Visitors began arriving in the next hour. First were Lupin and a woman whose voice Draco recognized. She had cast the spell that saved him from Bellatrix.<p>

"Didn't expect to see you out there, cuz," she said.

"I can see you," was the only response he could come up with. Her features were fuzzy, but she was most definitely there. She pulled back in surprise.

"She's a metamorphmagus," Potter paused his conversation with Lupin to explain.

"Ah," he sighed. "My half-blood cousin."

"That's me," she said cheekily. "That was pretty impressive, running into the fight like that. Didn't think you had it in you." She slapped him on the shoulder and he tried not to take offense. "Now that You-Know-Who knows you're a traitor, you're always welcome to stay at my parents' or even with the Order! The Weasleys'd love it if you came and-"

"We need to be going," Lupin said quietly. "Moody, remember?"

"Oh, right. Top secret mission. Gotta get it done fast, then we can finally rest." There was a slapping sound and the two left.

"Did my cousin just slap Lupin on the ass?" Draco asked.

"'Fraid so," Potter said. "If I knew how it happened I'd tell you but-"

"Please don't," Draco said quickly. A member of his family - black sheep or no - and Lupin. Could anything be more horrifying?

Luckily the Gryffindors showed up soon after to distract him. Crookshanks immediately leapt up onto Draco's bed and curled up atop his feet.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Granger demanded, smacking him in the shoulder. "You could have been killed!"

Draco turned his head towards Potter. "This is what you call concern?"

"We'd love to say it's a Hermione thing," one of the twins said. "But really it's just a Gryffindor girl thing."

"They love you and they make sure you know it," the other added.

"Usually with scars."

"Shut up, both of you," Ginny Weasley snapped, then more quietly, "How are you two doing?"

"Fine," Draco and Potter said at the same time.

"Aside from the being blind thing," Draco added, earning him another, lighter smack from Granger. This time he took the opportunity to grab her hand and lace his fingers with hers. "You," he said, "are a terrible influence on me and now you're physically attacking me? I do not see this relationship going well."

"I am _not_ a bad influence! And we are not in a relationship."

"I turned my back on generations of pureblood values after one very short-lived make-out session-"

"Dammit!" one of the twins muttered while the other laughed triumphantly and Draco heard coins changing hands.

"Who would've thought I'd be dating a bad girl Gryffindor."

Granger gasped in outrage but Draco cut off her reply by pulling her down to him for a quick kiss that shocked her into silence.

"I don't care if the Slytherins do want him back," one of the twins said, "we're keeping him."

* * *

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